Happy Christmas

Happy Christmas to all the readers and writers on the good ship 10000 Birds. Having survived the Triumvirate’s cat o’ nine tails thrashing during the kidnapping, I am now bent to their every whim and committed to their vision of traffic at any price.
My alter alias, International Man of Mystery has failed to live up to its billing so far, not least because I haven’t blogged beyond the lower 48 since I took the shilling at the end of October. But now, at last, I have been sent on an overseas assignment to broaden my horizons and bring you a quick glimpse of a seldom blogged-from Kingdom.Riyadh (Google Earth ref; 24° 57′ 00″N 46° 41′ 00″E) is home to approximately 5 million people and is the capital city of the Islamic Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Wildlife photography is discouraged here as any image may be an attempt to imitate the perfection of God’s creation. To allay any such fears, I sent a few of my best photos with a request for permission. The authorities quickly realised that, given the evidence, the chance of a decent graven image was very unlikely and granted me a concession to use my camera discretely.

It was strange to leave the pre-Christmas frenzy in the USA and the UK and come to a country where the birth of Jesus holds no festive significance. Jesus is recognised as a prophet in The Koran, but his assumed position at the right hand of the Father is not accepted. The important status that he is accorded by the Christian faith is not recognised here and the lack of commercial driven madness (tinselitis) to celebrate his anniversary is quite refreshing. In a culture with no Christmas and no images of living things or female skin, the advertisers find thin pickings and have taken their business to more hedonistic cultures. But wait…., is that a snatch from “Jingle Bells” I hear, coming from a date palm outside my hotel window? The accent is unfamiliar with a stress on the second syllable, “JingGERRL Bells”, a Collared Dove was doing its best to bring a little seasonal atmosphere, but couldn’t get past the first two lines.
For those of you reading this on Christmas morning, it must seem unlikely that on this web-connected world there is a country that could be ignoring the feast. The impression left by Christmas promotion is so intense that in its absence, the brain teases itself by contorting any sound into something with a seasonal significance. Even the five syllable call of the Laughing Dove could be thought to be a cooed “Once in Royal David’s City”. Contrived perhaps, but how much better than the sunken-eyed, teenaged carol singers trying to make a few quid to buy a value bottle of strong cider?

The grounds of the hotel held an early Christmas present for me. My colleague, G, had primed me to keep an eye out for Grey Hypocolius. The palms and bushes around the pool held about twenty of them among White-eared and White-eyedBulbuls. I was as excited as a child at …., well you know. Without even stopping to take my tie off, I rushed back outside to confirm the hypocolius with a good long look through the Bushnells and in doing so, cleaned up a whole genus with one stroke of the red crayon. Perhaps someone might like to comment on a couple of things. For example; in a genus with only one species, why does it need the ‘grey’ qualifier for the common name? And what is the plural form of hypocolius?
The female above is showing the white primary tips which may have caused commentators to historically ally them with the waxwings. The black mask on the male makes it apparent why the description as a “slim Grey Shrike” is apt. The minister in charge of the department that granted me permission to take photographs, would have been pleased to see that I was adhering to his proviso that I could use the camera as long as the images were of a “sufficiently low quality”.
I was feeling a little conspicuous by the swimming pool in my uniform with binoculars and camera trimmings, so I changed before setting out to explore the grounds. I was eager to seek G’s other suggestion. After having the hypocolius gift wrapped, the Black Bush Robin proved to be a little more elusive. There is a golf course attached to the hotel which would have been the perfect place to look, but Friday is the weekend and the course was very busy, so I was refused permission to walk there. Instead, I checked out the dry area that doubles as the golf practice ground. The trees were alive with House Sparrows which were becoming a little tiresome as they flitted through the acacias, catching my eye.
A terrace overlooks the green practice area and a small clump of bushes. A palm tree was dropping tiny fruits which were attracting the birds.
On the lawns, a few White Wagtails were chasing insects and a Eurasian Hoopoe was probing with its long bill into the soft turf. In the shadows of the bushes, a dark shape skulked. Even in silhouette, it was clear that it was a Black Bush Robin. It has a long tail which it cocks to make a very characteristic profile. I was unable to see the markings on the underside until the bird turned away and flicked its tail high, revealing the striking white pattern beneath.
The minister contacted me personally to say how much he approved of this picture.
I must assume that I am on the ‘nice’ list this year as naughty birders don’t get two lifers for Christmas do they? Unless of course, they have just read David’s post and have a hatrick of Troglodytes troglodytes. My software has not yet updated, but I am looking forward to a glut of desktop lifers when it does.

Don’t feel sorry for me by the way (I know that you probably don’t, but just in case). If you pictured me holed up in an alcohol-free zone with no cards, presents, friends or family, fear not. I am scheduled to arrive home on Christmas morning, hopefully early enough to see my son wake and spend the whole day with my family dreading the knock that heralds the tipsy, discordant youths.

I hope that today, wherever you are, whoever you are with and whatever your beliefs might be, that you can find peace and joy. The late Dave Allen, an old Irish comedian used to put it more succinctly, “Goodnight and may your God go with you”.

Redgannet has been working for over 30 years as a crew member/flight attendant and enjoys the well-ventilated air of the outdoors. The nom de blog, Redgannet, was adopted to add an air of mystery and to make himself more attractive to women. His father first whetted Redguga's appetite for all things natural by buying him his first pair of 7x35s and a copy of Thorburn's Birds. Having no mentor beyond an indulgent parent, he spent the first season hoping for an Egyptian Vulture at the bird table in his English garden. His most memorable birding moment is seeing an Egyptian Vulture with those same binoculars 26 years later. Redgannet is married to Canon, but his heart and half of his house belongs to Helen and their son Joseph. He is looking forward to communicating with people who don't ask if he is searching for the "feathered variety" of bird.

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4 Comments

Audrey

December 26, 2010 8:14:37 pm

Seems like it might be pleasant not to have the Christmas hipe but would miss everyone’s light displays.
I love seeing the birds from different areas. You sure got a few really interesting ones here.

Okay, I’m going to have to say this in the strongest possible terms – will you and Graham stop shoving that lifer Black Scrub Robin in front of me: yes, I’ve left, I’ve missed it, and no I’m not happy (and on a lighter note, hope you’re Christmas wasn’t too disrupted by the weather etc) 🙂